Chapter 28: Spreading Boughs
There are seven colours in a rainbow, and as the multicoloured pillar of light rose up from the Brightly tree, that great shaft of illumination split into those seven distinct hues with each one peeling off and arching across the sky toward different destinations…
Governor Jay Inslee was the longest serving state governor in the entire United States, and on top of that, Washington State apples were known far and wide as a major food export. So when his President handed him a strange apple from an unknown world and told him to do what he could with it, the experienced leader knew just who to bring it to.
“We sectioned the apple and were able to obtain six seeds from it,” Professor Kostick was saying, as she directed the governor through a large brightly lit greenhouse that was unusually chilly for the time of year. “We’ve got them planted and we’re working on germinating them now.”
“That’s good. Why is it so cold in here?” the governor asked, rubbing his upper arms.
“Apple seeds need two to three months of cold, damp weather to germinate,” replied the professor, waving a hand over the expanse of small plastic tubs before them in the climate controlled area. “But germinating the seeds from that apple isn't going to be the main difficulty with trying to grow a tree from them.”
“This is a fruit tree research lab. If anyone in the state of Washington can grow a tree from those seeds, it’s you and your people,” Governor Inslee said, attempting to reassure Dr. Kostick.
“Again, that’s not the problem, Sir,” restated the academic with dirty fingernails. “The issue is that seeds from an apple rarely grow into a tree that is as robust and productive as the parent tree was. Most commercial fruit trees come into being through grafting, which provides a consistent product.”
“So you’re saying that we aren’t going to get a magical tree from a magical apple,” Inslee responded, shoulders slumping slightly before the veteran politician reasserted the professional mask over his emotions.
“Sorry, but the odds are against it,” replied the professor, reaching out to touch a tub whose markings identified it as holding one of the six seeds from the very special apple. “I suppose we could always get luck— HOLY SHI—”
A spear of crimson light dove down from above, slicing through the glass and steel roof of the building as if it wasn’t even there, and enveloping the tub and it’s five fellows in a ruddy light whose brilliance briefly blinded both governor and horticulturist. A few moments later the older man blinked fiercely to clear his vision, only to realize that he was lying on the floor with something covering him.
Lifting a wavering limb to his face, Governor Inslee discovered that his arm was now the foreleg of a pony, it’s rich green fur contrasting with a deep blue fetlock and hoof.
“Professor, are you alright?” asked the newly minted pony governor.
“I’m fine, but I seem to have been transformed into a diminutive equine. From what I’ve read about this change, we should gradually build muscle memory through short, controlled movements, instead of thrashing around blindly,” answered the professor, before absently noting, “Interesting, I seem to have a horn. I’ll have to run some tests to see what I can do with it.”
“GOVERNOR!” yelled a uniformed police officer, as he burst into the greenhouse with weapon drawn. “GOVERNOR INSLEE! WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Over here, trooper,” Inslee called back, watching his new forelimbs move back and forth with idle curiosity. “I’m fine. But I’m afraid the professor and I are going to need a little help.”
“Sir?” asked the state trooper, curiosity in his voice but caution in his eyes as he approached the spot where the red column of light had come through the roof.
“I’m around the side of the planter,” Inslee replied, guiding the officer towards him, who came into view as he cleared the structure that had been holding the various apple seeds.
“Sir?” the trooper asked again, weapon pointing up but still ready for use if needed, “Is that you?”
“It’s me, and Professor Kostick. We seem to have run into some pony trouble, I’d appreciate it if you picked me up off the ground,” said Inslee, just as several more state troopers burst into the room.
“Clear! All Clear!” called the lead trooper to the others, who all immediately lowered their weapons and looked around to gain their own impressions of the situation.
Meanwhile, the lead officer, whose name tag read “Vemyr” holstered his own weapon and approached the pony with the mane of grey streaked faded gold. Bending over, Officer Vemyr hefted the surprisingly substantial weight of the transformed politician up into a belly carry.
“Are you okay, Sir?” the officer asked, using his head to motion over another member of the protective detail to pick up Professor Kostick.
“Other than being somewhat smaller and four-legged, I’m feeling pretty good,” answered Inslee. “Professor?”
“I am quite well as well,” Kostic commented, looking around with curiosity. “Did any of you happen to notice where that beam of energy came from?”
“It seemed to come in from the north. Was moving straight through the sky and then arrowed straight down,” replied Officer Vemyr, now beginning to move toward an exit.
“STOP!” yelled Professor Kostic. “Look at the seed tub!”
All eyes turned to one of the seed tubs as the pony professor waved a wobbly hoof at it. One of the tubs had been split open by the growth of a small and slender sapling.
“That wasn’t there before, was it?” asked the governor.
“No. Spanner! Spanner, get out here now!” bellowed Kostick, with a volume that belied her now small stature.
“What’s wrong? You said that the seeds were here to grow,” Inslee asked, knowing he was missing something but more than certain the scientist would give him the right answers.
“Germinate, not grow,” corrected Kostick, her emerald green body contrasting deeply with her pearly hooves and horn. “We should be weeks away from germination, let alone sprouting and what looks to be at least a few months of hardy growth.”
“But how?” Inslee asked, only to be interrupted by a harried young man wearing a pair of heavily soiled overalls.
“Professor! I came as soon as I could,” urgently stated the man before coming to a screeching halt as the barrels of several State Police weapons drew a bead on him.
“Put your guns down,” chided the professor. “That’s my graduate student, Jim Spanner. Spanner, get over here.”
“Uh, should I?” asked Spanner, his hands reflexively raised. “And who are you?”
“I’m the per… the pony who isn’t going to sign off on your thesis if you don’t get right over here this instant, and get this sapling into some growth medium right now,” growled the professor. “I’d do it myself, but as you see I seem to have had something of a little horse problem.”
“Wow! You’re a pony!” exclaimed Spanner, dashing over to run a hand through his professor’s fuchsia mane. “Soooo cute.”
More than a couple of the troopers snickered at the comment, even as they put away their reflexively drawn weapons.
“Spanner… the tree?” Kostick asked, even as she rolled her head to the palm of her grad student, unable to resist the power of a good ear scritch.
“Oh!” exclaimed Spanner, snatching his hand back as he realized what he had been doing. “Yes ma’am, I’ll get right on it. There’s room in Greenhouse H for it.”
“Do a good job and we won’t have to talk about if giving your professor an ear rub is inappropriate contact when the professor is of a different species. Understood?” Kostick asked, the serious tone in her voice was belied by a literal twinkle in her eye.
“Yes, Professor Kostick. I’ll just go get a tub right now and do the transplant,” Spanner said, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to get distance from the situation.
“Good student, but a little scatter-brained,” Kostick quietly noted, after the student had fled the building. “Now, to answer your interrupted question Governor, the answer is ‘Magic’. I believe our friends up north in Brightly have paid us something of a visit.”
“Are we going to be stuck like this?” Inslee asked, feeling the trooper holding him lean against the wall behind them for support. “Sorry son, we’ll be done here soon.”
“No worries, Sir,” Officer Vemyr replied. “Just needed a bit of lumbar support.”
“From what I’ve read the magical effect should wear off by dawn tomorrow,” stated the professor, before rubbing her chin in thought. “Excuse me officers, but would one of you be willing to participate in a short experiment?”
Not wanting to be transformed into ponies or similar themselves, most of the troopers began to back off and mutter various denials, prompting Officer Vemyr to finally protest with, “God, what a bunch of Meal Team Six wimps. One of you weekend warriors hold the governor for me and I’ll do it.”
Stung by the remark, one of the troopers defiantly marched up and roughly scooped the political pony out of Vemyr’s arms, accepting the weight with a petulant look on his face. Nodding in satisfaction that his remark had at least stirred someone to action, the trooper turned to Professor Kostick and asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Approach the sapling, and tell me if you feel or see anything unusual or different,” instructed the professor.
With slow, deliberate care, the state trooper stepped toward the tree, pausing after each step and finally stopping when they were standing next to the tub with the sapling in it.
“Everything looks and feels the same. And hey look, no hooves!” Officer Vemyr commented excitedly, waving his arms around while his fellows looked on with broad and in some cases, relieved grins. Looks that were quickly wiped away when Vemyr’s hand got close to the small sapling and the officer suddenly added, “Uh oh.”
“What? What?!” demanded Kostick, as the trooper snatched back his hand to his chest as if it had been burned.
Gingerly, the man looked down at his hand, giving a large audible sigh of relief as five fingers looked back up at him, and only then replied, “Everything went super colourful for a second there. Like someone had turned the colour saturation on a TV up to eleven.”
“Interesting. The same visual phenomena has been reported around high concentrations of Equestrian magic,” noted the professor, brows furrowed in thought. “Governor, would it be alright if I asked Officer Vemry to do another test?”
“That’s up to him,” Governor Inslee responded, before turning to look at the member of his protective detail. “Officer Vemyr, carrying out this test is strictly voluntary as we are all aware of the risks here.”
The state trooper looked back and forth from the transformed body of his principle, to his fellow troopers, to the sapling, and back again. After nearly a full minute of debate, the officer screwed up his courage, nodded and said, “Okay, what do you want me to do?”
“First, I would like you to carefully touch the tree,” Kostick instructed the trooper.
Gingerly, the man reached out and laid his fingers against the slight width of the sapling. As he did so, Inslee thought he saw a flare of light from the officer’s eyes, but put it down to a trick of the light.
“Okay, everything has all those deep colours again. It’s actually really pretty, and I’m not a pony either. Uh, no offence,” Vemyr apologized, before asking, “Now what?”
“Next I would like you to think of a magical effect,” Professor Kostick said to the trooper. “Try to manifest it. Make it real.”
“A what?” Officer Vemyr asked, confused.
“Never mind, that’s too abstract of a concept. Hmm,” commented the academic, taking a few moments to think of what to say next, before their eyes fell on the governor near her and inspiration struck. “I want you to think of your job of protecting the governor, of how important it is that they are kept safe and well.”
“Oookay,” drawled out the officer, half closing his eyes as he pictured standing behind or near his principle at various events.
“Now, think of how important that is, of how you will safeguard him from all threats, shielding him from danger,” commanded the professor.
“What are you doing?” whispered the governor, himself trying to understand what the horticulturalist was up to.
“Seeing if he can manifest a protective shield of some sort,” Kostick whispered back, before urgently adding, “Look!”
Before them, the state trooper’s hair had begun to give off firefly-like lights, coming into existence on or near his close cut hair before floating off and disappearing an inch or two away from the man’s head.
“Hey Professor!” called Spanner, stepping through one of the greenhouse doors as he bashed it open with a large tub of dirt that he was wheeling in on a dolly.
“STOP!” bellowed Vemyr, his voice preternaturally deep as he turned to face the apparent threat, one hand upraised in the classic gesture to halt, with the other still touching the small sapling. A yellow disk of light burst forth from the officer’s upraised palm and shot across the room, growing from a plain palm sized disk to a circle of light two feet across with a six pointed star within its circumference, striking Spanner full in the chest, knocking him flying off his feet and back through the doorway out of the greenhouse.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed one of the other troopers, while another went to check on the unfortunate student.
“Did I do that?” Officer Vemyr asked, looking at his own hand in disbelief.
“Congratulations on casting a spell,” answered Professor Kostick.
“He’s okay! Just stunned,” announced the protective officer who had gone to check Spanner.
Officer Vemyr’s fellow troopers gathered around him, congratulating on his feat giving Inslee the opportunity to ask, “How did he do that? Is it from that light that hit us?”
“I believe Officer Vemyr was able to utilize magic coming from the sapling, which was in turn germinated and accelerated with months of growth by that shaft of red energy, likely from Brightly,” Kostick answered, and Inslee could tell that the woman’s… the mare’s mind was working at top speed. “We will have to do more tests as time passes, but I think it is reasonable to assume that our little sapling here will grow to become a powerful source of magical energy. There is one thing that I do wonder about however.”
“Oh, what’s that?” the governor asked.
“Red is the lowest energy colour of the rainbow, and Equestrian magic is almost universally described as being polychromatic, which begs the question of where the other six hues went,” commented the professor, as Inslee’s eyes went wide in realization.
“Professor. The Canadian PM gave one of those apples to each permanent member of the United Nations Security Council, which was how we got ours,” Inslee informed the professor, who nodded in understanding. “One for us, plus one each for the U.K., France, Russia and China. Add in one for Ireland, who was president of the Council when Trudeau handed over the apples, and one for the Canadians themselves, and that’s seven.”
“This sounds like the making of some lively scientific endeavours,” said a smiling Professor Kostick.
One by one, six other beams of light touched down in six other countries, and the scene in Washington state was repeated around the globe as arcing bands of colour found their homes.
“What the hell is that?” the pony who had once been Ebon Donavich asked, peering at the arctic sky as a band of brilliant light crossed it.
“Magic,” replied his ethereal companion, a being made out of wind and wisps of hatred and contempt for others. “Powerful magic. Its taste is… strange. Like the magic from the place that defeated us both.”
“We each lost a battle there, but not the war,” Ebon stated, unconsciously thrusting out his chest of grey fur flecked with black. “Never the war.”
“Indeed,” conceded the windigo. “Regardless, it is the same magic as that place, and just as nourishing as I remember.”
Both beings, one material, one spiritual, took a few moments to look up and watch the blue beam pass overhead, far above the terns that wheeled above the summer coast of the arctic shore they stood on. The wind ruffled Ash Heart’s ebon mane, its streaks of ash grey flickering and dancing out from the long black strands, and the pony once American soldier took an extra moment to take a deep inhale of free air.
“No regrets on turning your back on your people, I hope?” asked the windigo with a barely hidden disdain.
“They stopped being ‘my’ people the moment they betrayed me, the moment they locked me up, put me in chains and sentenced me to be some sort of breeding stud for their amusement,” Ash Heart growled, and the being beside him gave a pleased smile.
“I enjoyed helping you turn every single one of the ‘people’ back at that farm into blocks of ice,” snarled the pony, and the building rage blinded him to the sudden keen interest shown by his companion toward the sudden wisp of dark purple smoke leaking from the corner of Ash Heart’s eyes. “I loved hearing Trask beg as you turned him into a popsicle from the neck down. Do you think he survived?”
“The ice we put him in was feet thick, so I doubt it,” replied the windigo, turning its mist-like head to look back up the beach. “May I ask you another question?”
“You may,” graciously allowed the dark unicorn, as his mood calmed and the wisps of smoke faded away.
“Why is she still with us?” the windigo asked, and this time the contempt of the being wasn’t hidden at all.
Bouncing along the beach toward the duo, the orange and yellow form of Sunday could be seen approaching, a happy smile on her face that was framed by a nylon halter that read, ‘Property of US Army.’
“Hi Ebon,” the former Army veterinarian said, by way of greeting. “I just woke up and I’d really like to uh… you know.”
“That’s why I brought her with us,” Ash Heart replied to the windigo, with a smile as cold as the bergs floating offshore. “I won’t be a stud for amusement of someone else, but I will be one for my own.”
“She is a drain on our resources, and she slows us down. We need to get rid of her,” stated the windigo, and Sunday’s face blanched before turning red in anger.
“You can’t say that to me. I’m important. Without me, Ebon wouldn’t have met you,” Sunday angrily shot back.
“I am taking you to a place of power, Ash Heart. A place where only those who are strong of will, and with hearts of cold iron can survive, let alone prosper,” the windigo stated, completely ignoring Sunday’s outburst. “This dalliance of yours is neither of those, and you know it. If you have not the stomach to get rid of her, then I will do it for you.”
“You can’t let him talk that way to me!” Sunday retorted, bouncing up and down slightly with anger.
“He’s right, you should go,” Ash Heart calmly said, the words sinking a cold dagger into Sunday’s heart.
“But… but… “ was all Sunday could say, her bouncing coming to an abrupt halt at her lover’s words.
“It’s been fun, and we were a big boost for each other, but I think it’s time we both moved on,” Ash Heart continued.
“But, I’ve done so much for you. I helped you get in to see the general, helped you at Brightly. I made myself into a pony so I could stay with you,” begged Sunday, her mood changing back to anger as none of her entreaties seemed to penetrate the heart of her lover. “I lifted my tail for you!”
“And we both had fun, but it’s time for you to go,” Ash Heart, formerly Ebon Donavich repeated, his smile fading away as he added, “Goodbye Sunday.”
A dumbfounded Sunday stared as Ash Heart and the windigo turned away from her and started walking back up the beach. Her shock at being dumped, rejected and abandoned held her in place for nearly half a minute before she charged back up the beach in pursuit.
“NO!” roared Sunday, grabbing onto Ash Heart’s shoulder and spinning him to face her so she could deliver a smashing head butt to the stallion nose. “I won’t be left behind like a used place mat!”
“Time to die,” commented the windigo, only to be stopped by Ash Heart’s upraised hoof.
“I’ll deal with this,” the flesh and blood stallion replied, and the windigo nodded in acquiescence.
“I have had enough of you,” Ash Heart growled, dark purple smoke flowing in a stream from both eyes above a nose that was leaking a trickle of blood. “I’ve had enough of your cheeriness, your naivete and above all else the way you keep on clinging to me.”
“You can’t—” began Sunday, before Ash Heart leaned in close and something in him smashed flat her will to resist, even as his words pinned her ears back.
“You will leave here now. You will follow the beach west back to Paulatuk, which we passed fifty miles back. You will stay there until I send for you,” the stallion commanded, in a low gruff voice that brooked no disobedience.
“Y-yes M-m-m-Master,” stuttered Sunday, her own eyes filling with the purple smoke.
“No, not ‘Master. Nothing so personal’,” corrected Ash Heart. “You will refer to me as, ‘My King.’ Is that understood?”
“Yes, My King,” Sunday responded, prostrating herself at the stallion’s hooves. “I will obey.”
“Now go,” commanded the stallion, and in doing so released a pressure he had felt building inside of him since the encounter had began. In response Sunday leapt to her hooves and turned away, rapidly cantering back the way the trio had originally come.
“Well done, my Lord,” noted the windigo, more than satisfied both with the result of the confrontation and at Ash Heart’s response to the magic the windigo had been discreetly feeding to his partner. “There are a great many hazards for a lone prey animal between here and her destination. Do you think she will make it?”
“I don’t care if she makes it or not, so long as she obeys me,” replied the stallion dismissively. “Now, you said you were taking me to a place of power?”
“Indeed,” said the windigo as the pair continued east. “Have you ever heard of ‘The Hand of Franklin’?”
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“…reaching for the Beaufort Sea.” The lost Tomb of Sir John Franklin on King William Island, evidently.
For those who haven’t heard the song, it’s a line in the chorus of “Northwest Passage” by Stan Rogers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKF2uPx-d50
11335430
It's a wonderful song. I first heard it during the finale of "Due South" and fell completely in love. And no disrespect to our man Stan, but I do like the cover by The Longest Johns & El Pony Pisador.
Hmm... I'm a little iffy on this chapter.
I liked it better when the scale was smaller.
11335496
The focus will remain on Brightly, but we do have to venture afield at times to show the global impact of events from there. In this case, the full awakening of the Brightly tree.
11335803
Speaking of scale, I have to wonder the scale of response to the fatal events that Ebon left behind. While I'd like to think an overly armed and hamfisted force would track down and unalive a very obvious threat, I suspect the military would just keep back and monitor from a distance.
As far as letting magic out into the world like it has. Yeesh. Kinda like giving out hammers to a bunch of kids and watching the chaos that will inevitably unfold-- when you have a hammer, everything becomes a nail (such as nails, your finger, nitro-glycerine... other people's heads).
11336681
you get a hammer! and you get a hammer! and you get a hammer!
Jay would've been elected President in 2020 if he ran on the platform of free cuddles!
I wonder if this explosion of magic was big enough for Equestria to pick up on...
Not really a fan of reusing villains, but you are the author.
Well I guess Earth is gonna end up ponified.